I'm glad you didn't stickTo my fingers like a trembleA wasted fortune spentOn things we never felt insideI count the footstepsThat take me away from youBecause I stayed too longInside this crooked frame

I'm glad you didn't spend the night like you had promisedI'd have to stretch the truth to say that I was sorryAnd now I laugh out loud at things that aren't that funnyBecause I stayed too long inside this crooked frame

I could burn my clothes and I would be alrightI could burn the photographs and be alrightI could burn the postcards, I would be alrightI could smile for the first time without thinking of you

I'm glad you didn't stick to my fingers like honeyI'd have to stretch the truth to say that you were prettyAnd now I laugh out loud at things that aren't quite funnyBecause I stayed too long inside your crooked frame